Too Little, Too Late
by CrumbsUK
Summary: When a six year old girl is violently assaulted, Nick finds himself facing demons from his childhood. As the team investigate further, they realise that there may be a second victim caught in an ongoing struggle to survive. Chronicles of Las Vegas - 1x05
1. Part 1 of 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its affiliated characters. Characters not in the series are my own.**

**A/N: This is the fifth story in my series, **_**Chronicles of Las Vegas**_**. It's not necessary to read the first three stories in order to understand this one but if you want to go from the beginning, **_**A Midsummer Nightmare**_** would be your starting point. :)**

**Warning: The subject matter of this story I feel is quite disturbing. I'm still giving this a 'T / PG-13' rating but I would be willing to up the rating if you readers feel it's necessary.**

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><p>"<em>Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop,<em>

_When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,_

_When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,_

_And down... will ... come... baby..._

_Cradle..._

_And..._

_All..."_

_She clutched her doll as she heard the shriek. Huddled in the corner, hoping they wouldn't find her. She didn't cry out, that would only make them angrier, it would all be over in ten, maybe fifteen minutes. She closed her eyes, counted to a hundred in her head and hugged the doll tighter, praying that it would all pass over. _

_She heard banging on the wall, an almighty crash, something shattered. Footsteps coming up the stairs, the shrieking getting louder..._

_... and then the door opened..._

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><p>It was just like any normal Friday evening at the Emergency Unit at Desert Palms hospital. Nurses and interns darted around treating various casualties. There were the usual drunks who bumbled in having been involved in a fight or having acquired some interesting artefacts embedded into their skin. Then also, there were the kids who wouldn't stop jumping on the bed, or those who didn't take no for an answer, now screaming for a cast for their broken arms. Then there were the people who couldn't put the superglue down and were now sporting outrageous barnets in the shapes of traffic cones, a daft hat and even a dead ground squirrel.<p>

However even the bustling and chaotic ambiance of the emergency room could be broken up, as the double doors sprung open and four paramedics wheeled in a gurney through the room. The waiting crowd quickly parted to let them through. One of the paramedics shouted to a doctor and three of them immediately rushed into action, following the gurney through the double doors towards the operating room.

There was silence in the immediate moments after the gurney had passed through the room, even the wailing children had paused for a moment, because what had been laid on the gurney would have caused even those with the strongest stomachs to quiver slightly.

The receptionist stood down for a moment to nip to the bathroom. She put on the tap and rinsed her eyes, washing away the images of the child, the child covered in blood, blood and bruises. Her eyes were shut, they had been forced shut by the swelling around her face but even then she could see the girl's tears illuminated by the lights, staining her purple and battered face. She rinsed her face again, hoping to wash away the image. Fifteen years she'd worked there and this was the first time she'd genuinely been disturbed by something which had passed through those doors.

_What had the poor girl done to deserve it?_

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><p>Nick walked slowly down the corridors of the ICU at Desert Palms Hospital, kit ready in hand. He peered into each of the individual rooms, witnessing patients almost mummified in bandages, some of them requiring support and moaning out to a doctor or nurse. On the fourth door he read the name, <em>DURMAN, LARRY<em> and quickly walked past the open room, not wanting to look at the man lying in that bed.

He turned a corner and saw Brass gazing through the window of a room around half way down the corridor, Brass, noticing Nick's footsteps approaching him turned to face Nick, giving him a faint smile and the two of them began talking at the entrance of the room, "Hey Jim," Nick said, "sorry I'm a bit late. What have we got?"

"Baby Doe," Brass sighed, his tone of voice heavily implying bad news was ahead. "A couple, on their way home from dinner found her at the side of the road; they pulled over and called an ambulance. Catherine, Sara and Ray are over there right now processing that scene, Greg's in there collecting her clothes."

"Is she gonna be alright?" Nick asked, fearing the worst.

Brass gave him a glum look and shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know, doctors say she's critical, could go either way, but he did say they've ruled out hit and run, wounds are inconsistent with a traffic accident." He paused for a minute and subtly gulped, "this girl was beaten."

Nick nodded slowly and peeped through the open doorway. He saw a few flashes of light and a figure lying on the bed although he was unable to make out any details. Another thought passed over his head and he instantly felt ill thinking about it. He blurted the question out anyway, not willing for it to seep in his mind for the rest of the day. "Any signs of sexual assault?"

"Doctors haven't checked with an SAE kit yet," Nick looked at him bewildered for a moment. Brass raised his voice, "look Nick, the hospital's main priority is to keep her alive, our investigation comes second to that I hope you realise."

"Yeah, yeah, I just thought... don't worry," he faltered off. He wasn't feeling particularly tired or restless however he could tell the case had already begun to take its toll and he hadn't even met the victim yet.

"Look Nick. I need to go back and question our nine-one-one callers, you and Greg'll be alright here?"

Nick simply nodded, Brass taking this gesture as a reason to leave, giving Nick a look which said '_don't get too intimate with this one_.' As Brass disappeared from sight, Nick hovered by the open door knowing he'd have to step inside at some point. He thought about turning back momentarily, hoping the image would not remain etched into his mind for eternity, joining those consisting of his time buried underground and of his friend, his best friend, his lost...

Nick stepped inside the room, cutting out these images as a sense of tranquillity and macabre engulfed him. There was a deathly silence, disturbed only by Greg ruffling items around in an evidence bag or the sinister metronome of the heart monitor attached to the body. He walked over to the head of the bed where the child lay, what was left of her. He imagined a pretty, happy girl underneath the sea of bruises which engulfed her. Tiny lacerations lined her cheeks and exposed skin, and her long, blonde hair had been dyed to a different colour. Red.

"Hey," Greg said to him, and Nick found an excuse to look away from the girl and converse with his colleague.

"Hey." That was all he muttered back. No comments, no jokes, no light-hearted remarks. Even the most light-hearted member of the team had been reduced to a faint glow. "How much've you done here?"

"I've bagged her clothes," Greg looked around at the evidence collected and rummaged through the various bags which lay on the table on the side, "I've taken a cheek swab, hair sample, and I've collected the blood in errm... her hair. Doctors found a lot of glass embedded into the lacerations, I've got them too."

"Okay," Nick said quietly, "you printed her yet?"

"No, I was about just about to do that actually."

"Don't worry I'll do it," Nick said, putting on a pair of latex gloves and retrieving a ten card and ink. "Could you give me your left hand first?" Nick asked the unconscious child, taking her hand gently and printing it as carefully as possible. Greg gave him a weird look as Nick asked the girl for her right hand. "Hearing is usually the first thing to come back from unconscious patients," Nick explained to him.

"Yeah I know that," Greg replied quietly, "it's just a... don't worry."

"Does she have no one here to be with her?" Nick asked, ignoring Greg's comment.

"I imagine her parents don't know anything of this," Greg said sadly, "I tried looking through the clothes for any name-tags. None whatsoever. Bit strange for a mother not to do that, I mean, mine even labelled all my individual socks and unde..."

"Not all of us wore a leash as a child, Greg," Nick joked, for the first time that evening.

Greg smirked a little and looked back at the child as a nurse came in to check up on her. "In the past, I was embarrassed by my overly-protective mother. A case like this comes up and now, I'm glad she raised me that way." He collected the evidence and put it into a crate, "right, I think we're finished here for now." He reached the door of the room, "you coming?"

"No," Nick passed him the ten card. "Take that back to Mandy; see if she can get a hit off anything. I'm gonna stay here for a bit."

"Nick, remember what Catherine said you need t..."

"I don't care about what some evaluation says I need to work on," Nick snapped. Realising he'd crossed the line he quickly apologised. "She needs someone here, someone here for her for when she wakes up." When she wakes up or if she wakes up? A horrible thought made its way into the back of Nick's mind. "I'll be down in a bit, you get a head start."

Greg, realising that he was not going to be able to convince Nick otherwise agreed and left him with the girl. Nick sighed and walked back to the girl's bed, her heart monitor ominously beeping, her only way of communicating to him. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. He began taking off his latex gloves, but realised that it would be unwise to leave his DNA over a victim.

He took a good look at her face, imagining a pair of vibrant eyes staring up at him amidst the scars of her ordeal. He gently took her hand into his and clasped it firmly but not tightly. With his free hand he reached up and began stroking the girl's hair softly.

_I'll be here for you._

* * *

><p>The night sky was filled with flashing lights. There were two police cars pulled up at the side of the road where the girl had been found. Ray pondered the scene, taking photos whilst Sara and Catherine looked elsewhere in the vicinity. The stretch of road sat adjacent to a ditch, leading to alleyways which led to housing estates further away. Whilst the scene was not in the middle of nowhere, it wasn't the most populated part of town either and Ray deduced it's likely this could have been the primary scene.<p>

"I've got blood here!" Catherine called out, shining her flashlight on the floor. Ray went over to have a look and sure enough, there were several droplets of blood on the floor radiating away from the side of the road. "They look relatively circular, could be gravitational."

"So she probably wasn't attacked here," Ray deduced, "can you find a blood trail?"

"That's what I'm looking for," Catherine muttered, crouching down to try and find a trail. Ray saw her scan the area thoroughly, brushing away the grass in search for more blood. Ray crouched down and photographed the blood drops that were found at the scene. Testing it with phenolphthalein identified it as being blood. "I've got some more over here," he heard Catherine call out. Ray walked over to where she was crouched and repeated the same procedure again.

Within five minutes they had found that the trail was leading away from the roadside and towards the housing estate further afield. "You reckon that's where our victim was attacked?" Ray asked Catherine, pointing at the houses in the distance.

"I got a call from the hospital," she replied, "they said she was found with glass embedded into her skin, as if she'd gone through a window."

"Great," Ray muttered, "another case of someone being thrown through a window."

"Well I guess that makes things easier for us. We just look for the house with the broken window."

"Hey guys!" Ray heard Sara call out from an area closer to the road, "come over and have a look at what I've found."

The two of them walked back towards the crime scene and the flashing police car lights. Sara held up a light blue blanket, it was streaked with what looked like blood.

"That looks a little big for a child's toy," Catherine remarked. "Bag it and send it back to DNA, I reckon this belonged to our attacker."

"So our attacker assaults the girl back at the housing estate," Ray began talking, "then drags her away and ditches her on the side of the road, leaving her for dead."

"Then they ditch the blanket and take off," Sara finishes the story. "Possibly to clean up after themselves? Cover their tracks?"

"If she's gone through a window, she must have been attacked inside right? Most likely in a house? Possibly her own home?" Catherine deduced. "This looks a bit like a case of child abuse to me and maybe we should step up our progress to look for the parents."

"Or we might be looking at a kidnap victim?" Sara pointed out, "I'll get back to the lab and scan through the Missing Children database, see if we can get a match based on her description."

"Okay then," Catherine said, "Come on Ray, let's go for a walk."

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><p>He glanced at his watch for a moment. <em>Ten past two<em>. It was at that moment he'd realised he'd been sat here almost two hours, watching her sleep. _Or watching her die?_ Nick quickly erased that thought from his mind and continued to sit there, thinking, letting the beeping of the monitor lull him away from reality.

He didn't know why he'd found himself so tied to this girl, he didn't know her, she didn't know him. The moment he stepped foot into the hospital he realised there was someone in need, he was almost furious with Brass and Greg at first, who just came in picked up what they needed and left her, left her alone. _They're just doing their jobs_ he had told himself although he couldn't help but think that he wasn't doing his.

The team knew that Nick found cases which dealt with children difficult. They had never forgotten the time when they were searching for a missing girl whose family had been slaughtered over some drugs. How everyone else had given up, but he hadn't, how he'd found that girl in the nick of time. They knew somewhat about his background, about his childhood although it wasn't something they felt compelled to bring up. He'd even mentioned it to Catherine once when they were working a case although he almost instantly regretted it.

Holding the child's hand, he thought about his future. He wanted children; however work had gotten in the way of starting a family and having turned forty earlier that year, there was the underlying thought that time was starting to run out and looking at the child lying there motionless was putting him off even thinking about it.

"Urrm excuse me Mr Stokes," a nurse walked in to the room uneasily. Whilst he had been sitting there, several nurses and doctors had walked in and out to check on the girl's status, some came simply to say 'hi' and have a quick look, others came in to boost the dosage of morphine and painkillers. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I can't leave her alone!" Nick blurted out. The nurse held up a small box which Nick immediately recognised. Slightly embarrassed by his comment he got up and made his way out of the room and sat down on set of chairs and placed his head in his hands, dreading what the nurse might discover.

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><p>"Thank you for coming down voluntarily Mr and Mrs Wilson," Brass told the couple from across the desk, "for the purpose of the investigation we need to know exactly how you found Baby Doe."<p>

The two of them nodded and Brass could see that they both looked relatively distressed. It was Mrs Wilson who spoke up first, "the two of them were... were driving back from dinner downtown," her speech was jittery and it showed, "it's our first anniversary tomorrow" she smiled at her husband.

"Congratulations to the both of you," Brass said, not without enthusiasm although he was eager to press on with the questioning.

"I saw something on the side of the road," Mr Wilson began speaking, "I thought it might have been an animal, like a cat or a fox and slowed down in case it ran out into the road."

"The headlights illuminated it and we saw it was... we saw..." Mrs Wilson looked horrified at having to retell their evening, "it was the girl."

"I pulled over and we ran out and saw her. She was covered in blood and glass..."

"I went to the car and pulled out a blanket and placed it around her, Mac called nine-one-one."

"Was it light blue, the blanket?" Brass interjected, having heard that Sara had found a blanket at the suspected scene.

"No, it was red," Mrs Wilson continued talking, "we handed it to the paramedics who took her to Desert Palms. We wanted to go with her but they wouldn't allow us."

"Is she going to be alright?" Mr Wilson asked with a look of desperation on his face.

Brass sighed admitting, "We don't know but she's still in a critical condition. On behalf of everyone I'd like to thank you both for calling her in, I'll let her know who to thank when she wakes up."

The couple nodded and got up to leave. Mrs Wilson asking as she left, "will you keep up updated?"

Brass nodded and replied, "as best as we can."

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><p>Another hour had passed rapidly as Nick sat beside the girl. The nurse who had collected the SAE kit had left without telling him her findings, leaving him in a state of anxiousness. <em>This couldn't get any worse<em> he thought to himself. Taking the girl's hand in his again, he began talking to himself, hoping that he'd get a sign of movement from the girl.

About ten minutes later he thought he heard something... a murmur, a whisper in the air which was getting louder. He felt a hand tighten within his and he called out to a passing doctor.

"Mommy..." the girl whispered wearily, "... mommy..."

"Your mommy's on her way dear," Nick spoke to her softly, "can you tell me your name please?"

"Mommy... mommy, where's mommy?" The girl was beginning to speak louder and quicker, becoming panicked as the heart monitor began to quicken.

"Mommy's coming sweetie," Nick talked soothingly, "you'll be..."

"Mom! Daddy!" she cried out, now beginning to scream. Nick felt a hand leave his as doctors began piling into the room, he stepped back and let them take over, looking away from the girl, now sent into a fit.

A high pitched beeping sound struck Nick cold as it became apparent that something was wrong. Nick stepped out the room as the doctors swarmed over her, passing through various drugs and monitoring systems. The beeping got louder and faster and the shouting became more panicked and disorderly.

Then a noise which raised the hairs on the back of his neck sounded out, one continuous bleep, the focus of the doctors immediately changed to emergency resuscitation as the shouting continued to emit over the monotone.

Then there was silence.

It was then, that Nick wanted the chaotic noise back, because he knew what the silence meant. With a scream of despair he walked over to the trash can and kicked it across the corridor, collapsing into a chair with his head buried in his hands, allowing tears to cascade to the floor.

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><p><strong>AN: **

**- That was quite a difficult story to write, particularly the last scene but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.**

**- Larry Durman is a character from the previous story, Rush Hour. (1x03)**

**- Part two, I hope will be available tomorrow but I've fallen a bit behind with the story but I'll update it as quickly as possible. Reviews and feedback are very much welcome. :)**


	2. Part 2 of 4

Sara walked through the lab with the intention of depositing the bloody blanket off at DNA before indulging in her sandwiches. She walked into the DNA lab and saw that the person's back towards her was not Selma's.

"Greg?"

He quickly whipped around, a look of fear on his face, like a naughty child who'd been caught sneaking cookies from the jar. "Sara," he smiled, "what can I do for you?"

"Urrm... why are you working DNA, shouldn't you be processing the victim's clothes?" Sara seemed a little suspicious, she knew how much Greg hated being confined to the lab yet somehow he seemed to have volunteered himself to work there.

"I told her she could take a long break, I owe her a favour and besides, I've already processed the girl's clothes," he said smugly. "Not a single stray fibre and all the blood on it is her own."

"Do we have an identity?"

"No hits in CODIS, but Brass is releasing a description of her to the media, hopefully someone who knows her might be able to identify her."

"What a horrible way to find out your child's been beaten," Sara remarked sadly. She felt her gut twang as she remembered showing parents the bodies of their children in the past, it was always a harrowing experience, one she would never want to put herself through. "What about the glass found in the wounds, have you identified that?"

"Hodges is working on it as we speak. So tell me, what can I do for you?"

"I want you to analyse this," she pulled out the blue blanket from the evidence bag and handed it to Greg. "Oh and can you get this done please too," she retrieved the first blood sample from the drops which Catherine had found on the grass by the side of the road where the girl was found.

"Okay, I'll get that to you as fast as I can," Greg smiled cheekily at her and swivelled the chair round and returning to work.

"Greg," she said softly. He turned his head round warily. "Is something wrong?"

"Nope," he replied almost instantly, giving her another goofy grin, "all's well over here."

She nodded and left cautiously, turning back to check whether Greg had returned to what he'd been previously doing before she'd entered the lab.

"You can stop watching me," he said, not even looking over his shoulder. Sara frowned and left him to his devices, making a quick detour to the break room before she'd start sieving through the missing children's database.

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><p>"Are you finding any more blood Catherine?" Ray called out to his supervisor as he continued to scan the area with his flashlight, searching for tiny droplets which had fallen on the grass and dirt. "I think I've lost the trail over here."<p>

They'd been searching the area for a couple of hours now and were around four hundred metres from the housing estate near to where the girl had been found. Apart from a trail of blood drops presumable emanating from the scene there was little physical evidence to suggest that the girl had been there, let alone attacked there.

"No I haven't," she sighed and got up off the floor, swishing her hair back and stretching out her legs looking exhausted.

"I'm beginning to think that this might not be the victim's route," Ray deduced.

"What makes you think that?"

"I'd have expected us to find, you know... a bit more than we have. I realise the glass may have kept her from bleeding out, but we've only got a few blood drops, no shoe impressions and hardly anything to suggest that this was where our victim came from."

"What about these?" Catherine asked, holding up a pair of tattered and bloody shoes, which looked like a match to the Baby Doe's. "We never found any shoes at the scene, these look to be her size."

"I'll take back what I said," Ray muttered and continued to scan the ground. "Shoe impression here." He photographed it and showed the picture to Catherine who looked at the underlying patters on the bottom of the shoes.

"Well the patterns match," Catherine commented, "now if we can match the shoes to the girl then we can prove that she was there."

"I guess that's my theory out the window then," Ray chuckled as they continued walking along the plains, eventually reaching a cul-de-sac surrounded by pleasant two story houses. "I've got more blood here." He photographed the puddles of blood dotted around the pavement and tested them for blood. The pink cotton swab telling him a positive test had come out of it.

Whilst it appeared that they may have found their primary crime scene, the blood trail had ceased to lead them to any of the houses in the near vicinity, of which there were at least twenty of them to have a look at. Knocking on each of them individually was out of the question, because even if they did get the right house they would have needed much more for a warrant to search that house.

"I don't see any houses with smashed windows," Catherine pointed out, looking at the front of each house. "She may have fallen out of one round the back, but I'm not entirely sure whether we are looking in the right place at the moment.

"Come on Catherine, this must be where she was attacked," Ray had quickly abandoned his previous theory, "is there a name in the shoes you found?"

"I was hoping to find one as well but, nope. Nothing."

Catherine's phone began ringing, sighing she picked it up and answered it, "Willows."

"Miss Willows," a sing-song female voice spoke on the other side, "I'm Doctor Leaven, I've been treating your Baby Doe."

"Have you got an update on her?" Catherine asked eagerly, praying for the best.

"I'm afraid she didn't make it," Leaven replied sadly. Catherine took her mouth away from the receiver and swore loudly, Ray's facial expression became glum as he realised what the problem was. "I've been informed that Doctor Robbins is examining her now, we've sent all samples and X-rays to your crime lab," she continued.

"Okay, thanks," Catherine replied, trying not to show too much anger in her voice.

"There's one more thing as well," Leaven said, preventing Catherine from hanging up.

"What might that be?" She asked.

"Nick Stokes, he was err... with the girl, when she died," Catherine swore to herself mentally. As soon as she'd heard about the case she was uneasy at sending Nick to the hospital, given how he was emotionally affected by cases involving children. "We've had to escort him off the premises."

"Escort him?" Catherine cried with disbelief.

"He wasn't taking the news very well," Leaven said, trying to make it sound better than it probably was.

Knowing it would be unprofessional to unleash her frustration over the phone Catherine simply thanked the doctor for passing on the information before calmly hanging up the phone. Catherine let out a deep breath and composed herself.

"Is something the matter, Catherine?" Ray asked calmly.

"We need to get back to the lab," Catherine replied cooly, "we're dealing with a homicide."

Ray obediently nodded and collected up his kit, the two of them heading back the way they came in silence. Catherine pulled out her phone and furiously stabbed the keypad as she called Nick.

"Nick, it's Catherine. I want to see you in my office. We need to talk."

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><p>"<em>Mommy... mommy..."<em>

"_Your mommy's on her way dear. Can you tell me your name please?"_

"_Mommy... mommy, where's mommy?"_

"_Mommy's coming sweetie..."_

"_Mom! Daddy!"_

_Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep..._

"_Mom... no, I want my mom!"_

"_Mommy isn't here Nicholas, mommy isn't here!"_

"_No... no, I don't want to... stop it... no!" _

"_Don't make me tell mommy you've been a naughty boy."_

"_No... stop it... please..."_

Nick awoke in a sweat, well, he thought he awoken until he'd realised he hadn't dropped off to sleep at all. A car honked behind him, and he realised that the car park barrier had been raised and he could drive ahead and out of the hospital car park.

Trying to wipe away his memories for the time being he checked his cell phone. One new answer phone message, from Catherine. He groaned as he let the message play in the car, "Nick, it's Catherine. I want to see you in my office. We need to talk."

Nick suddenly had little intention on returning to the crime lab, but not doing so would raise even more alarms. He knew technically he wasn't supposed to stay with the little girl, but he knew morally that he couldn't. She needed someone there. _She needed her mom, and her dad. _Catherine would understand, he hoped, but he remembered what Greg had tried to tell him earlier that evening, that Catherine had already flagged up Nick's emotional involvements when it came to cases involving children.

Then he remembered the way he'd flipped off in the hospital, he'd kicked over the trash can in a rage, remained uncooperative with the doctors, even aggressive with them. His insistence to sit in the coroner's van with the body bag was the final straw. Then he remembered what the doctor had told him before he left, what the little girl had said in her dying moments:

"She didn't mean to."

* * *

><p>Sara felt her eyes begin to ache as she continued to scroll down the list of missing children. She had managed to narrow it down to fifty-three results and had begun comparing them visually to the photo she had been given by the hospital. She was on result number forty-one and she still hadn't even found a close match yet. Looking through each result was both exhausting and disturbing; Sara had never really come to terms just how many children went missing in Las Vegas.<p>

A sudden realisation hit her that many of the children listed had been missing six years, which meant she could have to check back to missing babies back from two thousand and four in order to get a hit. The news that the girl hadn't made it hit the entire lab hard and made them even more determined to catch the attacker turned killer.

"Results from your blood samples," Greg walked in, looking slightly more flustered than normal and placed a file on the desk beside her.

Sara stopped looking through missing persons and started reading the file Greg had given her, "blood drops obtained at crime scene, are a match to our Baby Doe," Greg nodded, confirming the findings. "Okay that says she was there at the scene." She flicked over the page and frowned at the next set of results, "blood from the blanket is not human?"

"Nope, it's cat blood," Greg answered her question before it had left her mouth, "I found some hairs on the jumper when I examined it, I sent it to trace and Hodges confirmed they were cat hairs."

"Why would someone want to kill a cat?" Sara asked mortified.

"Well it doesn't prove that the cat is dead," Greg consoled her, "but, the weird part of this. I found some epithelials on the blanket as well." He slammed another piece of paper on the table next to Sara, who glanced at it. Before she had had a chance to read it, Greg quickly snatched the paper back and passed her a different piece, "sorry, wrong results."

Sara tried to ignore what had just happened and continued to read the results, "the epithelials from the blanket are a paternal match to our victim?"

"That's what the DNA's saying."

"We need to identify this girl quickly."

"Brass has already released a description and a photo to the media, let's hope someone steps forwards."

* * *

><p>"<em>Nicholas, it's not time for hide and seek... it's bath time... come on Nicholas... don't make me come and find you..."<em>

"Nick."

Nick bolted up quickly, realising that he'd let his thoughts engulf him again. He saw that Catherine was looking at him from behind her desk, her look expressed concern, unlike the chagrin which she had implied in her answer phone message.

"Nick, I need to know if you can handle this case," Catherine spoke to him softly.

"Yes I can," Nick replied almost instantaneously, "of course I can. I want to find her killer."

"There's a big difference between wanting to help and being able to help Nick," she said more firmly, "and I'm afraid that your want to help is starting to take over. You shouldn't have stayed at the hospital Nick..."

"And what? Let her die alone?" Nick began to raise his voice. "I know what it feels like face death alone, I've been through it and she does not deserve to face that same ordeal..."

"I was just a phone call away," Catherine interjected, equally beginning to raise her voice, "I don't want to have to stick a homing device on you to know wherever you are. You know what? I'd have said yes, I'd have said you could stay with the girl and I agree, nobody should have to go through that ordeal alone. But if you're going to be ethical about it, you need to behave like you are, I shouldn't be hearing that you've had to have been escorted out the..."

"Oh, so I'm not allowed to get too attached to my cases but you are? How many times has your work been called into question because you've had personal issues with your case? Why should I listen to someone who's so hypocritical?"

"So that you don't make the same mistakes that I did," Catherine said, more quietly. Nick found himself lost for words at that point. "You're right; I have gotten emotionally involved in a lot of my cases. With Eddie. With Sam. But you know what happens when you let your emotions run you astray? You make mistakes. You have your thoughts tampering away at your mind and you end up making the simplest errors. Do you remember what I did? I blew up the lab; I almost killed one of our co-workers I could have injured even more!"

Nick nodded slowly, realising that Catherine was right, he thought back to earlier that evening and began kicking himself that he had let himself get into this state of mind. "Catherine," he said softly, "I don't want to be taken off this case."

She smiled at him, "that's good, because I don't plan on taking you off it," Nick smiled back, relieved at her decision, "however, consider this as a warning. You're a damn good CSI Nick and never forget it."

"Thanks Catherine," he said getting up to leave, "this isn't going on my record is it."

"Nope, this isn't a reprimand, it's just a chat. Oh and by the way Nick, I'd just like say, you were never alone in that coffin Nick and you know it, and it's thanks to yourself, that our Baby Doe wasn't alone either."

Nick left her office feeling slightly more elevated and determined to catch the girl's killer. Gone were the memories of her final moments, Nick was becoming focused on the case and a sense of determination overwhelmed him.

As he walked out towards the break room he saw Brass walking in the opposite direction flanked by a couple, who showed emotions of both distress and hope. His heart sunk immediately as he came face to face with what could be the parents of the young girl.

"This is Mr and Mrs Coolidge," Brass introduced them to Nick, "they're not Baby Doe's parents but they recognise the girl from the broadcast, they're going to come and identify her."

Nick nodded as Brass stepped into Catherine's office relaying the news, leaving the three of them standing around in an awkward silence.

* * *

><p>"I've been a coroner for a long time, a very long time, but this is by far the most brutal attack I have seen inflicted upon an infant," Doc Robbins told Ray sadly as he slid the girl's body into a cooling vault.<p>

"What type of injuries has she sustained?" Ray asked the coroner who began glancing at the x-rays pinned up on the wall.

"Metaphyseal fractures to both humeri, which are consistent with long periods of abuse. Her shoulder was dislocated not too long ago, and all of her ribs have sustained fractures."

"All of them?" Ray asked in disbelief.

"All of them," Doc Robbins answered, "victim suffered multiple contusions, bruises, more breaks and fractures further down the body."

"What kind of person can do that to someone?"

"A monster. Internally, things don't look much better; most of her vitals were relatively intact although at some point her spleen was ruptured, causing internal haemorrhaging, but whether it was the fatal blow I can't tell you."

"So COD is undetermined?"

"I can't identify it in this case, but what I can tell you was this was not a single event, this child was abused. I found signs of previous fractures healing; this is particularly visible around the radius and ulna." He pointed to these fractures on the x-ray.

"What about the glass wounds?"

"Well unlike last week's window casualty, her incident occurred pre-mortem although no real serious damage was done, it surely would have sped up her death. Interestingly unlike previous abuse cases, this girl was fed well. Healthy colon, no apparent signs of malnutrition."

"So this girl was just essentially someone's punching bag."

Doc Robbins nodded solemnly. The door opened and Brass and two other people, a couple, walked into the morgue.

"Excuse me Doc, Mr and Mrs Coolidge are here to identify the body of our Baby Doe," Brass whispered to the medical examiner, who nodded and obliged to his request, pulling the body out of the cooling vault and slowly pulling back the cloth to reveal the girl.

Mrs Coolidge immediately looked away upon seeing the girl's battered face, crying into her husband's shoulder. "Can we see her left leg please?" Mr Coolidge asked. Doc Robbins placed the cloth back over her face and lifted the bottom, revealing her left leg. Mr Coolidge leant down and looked carefully in between two bruises above her kneecap. He began nodding, tears welling in his eyes, "that's her... that's Kelly; she has the birthmark on her leg."

"What are Kelly's parents called?" Brass asked the couple.

"Jack and Edith Melling, we're good friends. They're away on business in South Carolina, and will be landing at McCarron in about an hour."

"Okay, we'll send some units to bring them down here when they land, thank you both for coming down and identifying her. I'm sorry how difficult this has been for you," Brass said sympathetically, leading the now bawling Mrs Coolidge out of the morgue. He thought to himself as he took the couple back towards PD, '_if this is how the friends are reacting, I'm dreading speaking to the parents._'

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I have two apologies to make:**

**-Firstly, I'm sorry how late this story has been put up, I've been getting so far behind lately, it's been a busy time for me but I managed to get this chapter done today.**

**-Secondly, I'm sorry to say that there won't be an update tomorrow, I'm out all day and there is no chance I'll get part three done, so I will definitely update on Monday and should get part four done by Tuesday. Sorry for the extra long wait!**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter, I know it's not a pleasant story but I wanted to explore Nick's character a little more and really give him an emotional case. It's certainly going to be getting a lot more interesting from here onwards. Reviews are always welcome, thanks for reading! :)**


	3. Part 3 of 4

"_Mom... Mom... I want my mommy!_

"_Mommy isn't here Nicholas, now come and take your bath."_

"_No... no... I don't want to, I want my mom..."_

"_Come here and take your bath Nicholas!"_

"_No... no... stop it..."_

"_I said... take your bath!"_

"Hey Nick," he heard a voice calling him back to reality and snapped his eyes open to see Greg looking at him peculiarly, "you alright, man?"

"Never better," he beamed, shaking away the voices from his past out of his head. "So did you get anything from Kelly's clothes?"

"Kelly?"

"We identified the girl," Nick informed him, "her name's Kelly Melling and she's six years old. Her parents are on their way back from South Carolina right now."

Greg nodded understandably, "okay, well all the blood on the clothes came back to Kelly. Glass samples are in trace currently, Hodges mentioned something about managing to get a source relating to the glass used in the windows of the houses where the vic... Kelly was presumably attacked."

"Well, he's good for something I guess," Nick laughed to which Greg smirked.

"Hey," Hodges walked into the break room where they were sat looking scornful, "without me here, this city would have thousands more scumbags roaming the streets."

"You keep telling yourself that," Nick chuckled, "what have you got for us?"

"The glass embedded in your Baby Doe..."

"Kelly Melling," Greg pointed out correctly.

"Okay, whatever, anyway, I went specifically out of my way to contact Henley Houses, the company which built the housing estate where your victim was found. They informed me of the refractive index of the windows used in each of the houses..."

"Sorry, the what?" Nick asked.

"A refractive index. One characteristic of glass is the degree to which light is refracted when it enters the glass, each type of glass will refract light differently. So I compared the refractive indexes to both samples of glass, not a match."

"Well that says two things," Greg noted, "either, Kelly wasn't thrown out of the window..."

"Or she wasn't thrown out one of the windows in that housing estate," Nick finished off for him.

"What makes you think that she didn't fall through?" Hodges inquired.

"Go and have a look at her body," Nick snapped, "that should give you an indication that she didn't "fall though"."

"Whoa, chillax Stokes, I'm just trying not to jump to conclusions here," he said holding out his hands.

"You stick to your job, we'll stick to ours," Nick growled at him. Hodges gave him a glare and walked out of the room. Nick angrily crushed a plastic cup sat on the table muttering "moron" under his breath.

"In other news," Greg said cheerfully, trying to detract Nick away from his annoyance at Hodges, "Catherine and Ray followed a blood trail back to the housing estate; the blood's a match to Kelly Melling."

"Well that implies she walked away from her attacker."

"Or her attacker brought her away from the scene and dumped her."

"Why beat a six year old so viciously and not check to see whether she's dead before dumping her?"

Greg shrugged, "maybe they thought she was genuinely dead."

The door opened again and Doc Robbins hobbled into the room to talk to the two of them, "have either of you seen Catherine or Ray?"

"No, sorry," Greg replied. "I think they may have gone out to the scene to find some more evidence."

"Okay don't worry, I'll inform you two anyway. The shoes found near the scene fit Kelly perfectly. I wouldn't expect a six year old to be able to walk too far from somewhere even if they hadn't been beaten half to death."

"She must have been attacked in that vicinity then," Nick concluded.

"Yes, I looked at the results from the SAE kit which one of the nurses at Desert Palm took," Doc Robbins continued talking, Nick felt his throat clench with dread, "if there's anything that can be considered comforting about this, it's the fact there were no signs of sexual trauma."

Nick said nothing more than letting out a large sigh of relief, Greg equally looked pleased, "I guess that might rule out a paedophile, for now anyway."

"I don't know whether my opinion would be any valid," Doc Robbins began talking, "but weren't her parents out of town? If you were to go out of town where would you leave your children whilst you were gone?"

"I'd leave them with a family member," Nick answered.

"What if nobody was around?"

"Then," he gulped, "a babysitter."

"_Don't make me tell mommy you've been a naughty boy."_

* * *

><p>Brass was sat on a bunch, drinking a coffee as he waited outside of the Arrivals Lounge for Kelly's parents to get off the plane. The flight had landed around fifteen minutes ago and it was surely only a matter of time before they would turn up, although Brass felt like he had been waiting for much longer. He was determined to wrap up this case as quickly as possible, and was getting frustrated by delays such as not being able to identify the child and waiting for the parents to land at the airport.<p>

A customs officer turned the corner steering a couple towards him. Both people looked grumpy and looked as if they were going to dart off at any moment. Even from afar, Brass could hear that Mrs Melling was particularly annoyed at being taken over.

"I don't believe this," he heard her complaining, "I've got to talk to fifteen of the country's top industry experts, I don't have time to faff around with customs."

"We shouldn't take long at all ma'am," the custom officer replied wearily, "Captain Brass would just like to talk to you about something."

He handed the couple over to Brass and walked away as briskly as possible. Mr Melling frowned at Brass and rudely exclaimed, "this better be important."

"It is important," Brass said flatly. Although he wasn't one to judge people based on first impressions, he had taken an immediate dislike to the couple, despite what he was about to tell them. "I'm Detective Jim Brass from homicide, I need to speak to you both about your daughter," he said, looking at Mrs Melling whose expression changed from anger to fear.

"Oh my gosh! What's Tina done now?" She cried out.

"Tina?" Brass asked her, confused, "this isn't about Tina, it's about Kelly."

"Oh god," Mrs Melling cried, "I'm so sorry, I just assumed... Tina's my older daughter from my first marriage."

"Please tell us that Kelly's okay," Mr Melling spoke up, all sense of irritation in his voice had been replaced by desperation.

"I'm afraid to tell you this," Brass sighed, "your daughter has been murdered." The words hit the couple like verbal bullets; Mrs Melling burst into tears and began wailing loudly, she buried her head into her husband's chest who too, was mourning, but doing so more subtly. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"How?" Mr Melling asked, "how did this happen? We left her in good hands."

"Who did you leave her with?" Brass asked.

"A babysitter, her name's Dena Welburn."

"Do you have an address?"

"Yes, I've got one here," Mrs Melling sniffled, taking out a small card and handing it to him. "Captain... how did this happen?"

"Mrs Melling," Brass said to her, "I'm afraid these are questions we'll have to answer downtown. We've got a few questions of our own to ask so if you could follow this officer here and we'll give you what we know down at the station."

The couple nodded and were escorted by two unis who took them out of the terminal building towards the cars. Brass spoke to another two nearby, "could you go and collect their baggage please. Their names are Jack and Edith Melling." The two unis nodded and went off to the baggage claim area to collect the suitcases from the carousel.

Brass walked out of the terminal building and pulled out his cell phone, intent on calling Catherine. "Hey Catherine, it's Jim... listen I've got a name and address that you and Ray might want to have a look at, the name is Dena Welburn and she lives at one-zero-three-zero-three Lambert Street, that's in the area to where she was found... bring a few unis with you, just in case."

* * *

><p>"Dena Welburn, LVPD, open up," Officer Akers knocked on the oak door of the rather elaborate house where the babysitter lived. There was no reply. "Dena Welburn, LVPD, open up," Akers repeated, only this time significantly louder.<p>

A large crash could be heard from inside the home followed by screaming and yelling. Akers and Metcalf looked at each other and nodded. Metcalf swung his foot at the door forcing it open with ease. Guns raised, the two officers, with another two close behind piled into the house where the screaming and the wailing got louder.

From what Ray could see, the interior of the house was an absolute mess, chairs were overturned and there were piles of rubbish everywhere. He heard the police officers shouting to each other and looked at Catherine concerned, she looked back at him with an equal look of concern but knew it was best advised not to intervene. Then there was a yelp and the screaming and wailing suddenly stopped.

"Okay, cuff her," he heard Akers tell another officer. They emerged from the house a couple of minutes later, the other two officers supporting a stunned Dena Welburn into the back of the police car. Akers turned t talk to Catherine and Ray. "She tried to assault Metcalf, I had to stun her but we've got her for attempted assault. The house is yours."

"Okay, thanks officer," Catherine replied, and invited Ray into the house to begin to have a look around. Ray could see that Catherine was shocked at the sheer amount of mess in the front room alone. The mess continued into adjacent rooms and even up to the second floor. She gave Ray a look which said that they needed assistance, "you go ahead and start in the kitchen. I reckon this house is where our primary scene is. I'll call Nick, Greg and Sara. This looks like an 'all hands on deck' job."

* * *

><p>"Are we murder suspects?" Mr Melling asked Brass curiously who was sitting behind his office desk armed with his usual notepad and pen.<p>

"No," Brass replied, "we're just filling you in with what we know from the case but we've also got some questions to ask you as well. How long have you been in South Carolina?"

"Well," Mrs Melling began, "we've been in South Carolina for two days, but we've also been in North Carolina, Virginia, DC and New York on business."

"Okay, so how long have you been gone?"

"Ten days," Mr Melling replied.

"Ten days?" Brass looked slightly bewildered, "do you go away often then?"

"Work is very demanding. We produce the finest skin care products and they are in high demand with many small businesses all over the..."

"I don't need to know about your products thanks, my skin is perfect. I'll take that as a yes, you do go away often then." Mrs Melling nodded, "and do you use the same babysitter every time?"

"Yes, she's excellent, really excellent and she does a great job for a really low pay-rate as well. I don't know what we'd do without her," Mrs Melling continued praising the babysitter, Brass looked at her and grimaced.

"Please, tell us what happened to Ti... I mean Kelly?" Mr Melling asked desperately.

"We have reason to believe that Kelly has been abused for several months," Brass said morbidly. The couple in front of him looked at him stunned.

"What? That's absurd!" Mr Melling cried out, "Why would we do that? We love Kelly!"

"I wasn't referring to you. Tell me how long have you hired Dena Welburn as a babysitter?"

Both looked at each other worriedly, Mrs Melling answered, "since around January, early February."

"January, so around six months then," Brass told them. The couple nodded. "The crime lab went to question Dena Welburn after you were collected from the airport. She's currently in police custody having tried to assault a police officer."

"How? That is so unlike Dena," Mrs Melling screeched, "every time we've dropped Kelly off she's been kind and welcoming. A little nervous perhaps and hasty but she seemed like such a nice woman."

"What about Kelly? What did she think of her?"

"We never really talked about it with her, but at first she would scream and cry when we went to drop her off, we figured she missed Edna, the old babysitter, but after about six or seven visits, she seemed fine about it."

_Six or seven visits? Did these people ever see their child?_ Brass thought but restrained himself from expressing these thoughts aloud. "So you didn't notice the dislocated shoulder?"

"Her school said that she'd done that falling off a swing," Mr Melling piped up, "you don't _really _think that Dena would be capable in doing this do you?"

"Well, that's not my decision, that's up to the jury, but from what I've heard she sure knows how to throw a party at her place." Brass passed over a photo across to Mr Melling, "whilst I've got your attention Mr Melling, explain why there is cat blood and cat hairs on your blanket. We found your epithelials on them by the way."

Mr Melling looked at the picture carefully before sitting back and saying, "I lost it. Is that a crime?"

"Nope, just curious seeing as it was found in the same place where a couple found your dying daughter," Brass said sternly. Tears began to brim Mrs Melling's eyes. "Your skin cells were found on that blanket Mr Melling, you might want to take better care of..."

"Can we see her?" Mrs Melling asked suddenly. "I want to see her."

Brass sighed, expecting the request to come up sooner or later. He walked outside his office, "Officer Mitchell, please could you take Mr and Mrs Melling to the morgue."

* * *

><p>"This looks awfully familiar," Nick said, stepping over piles of rubbish and junk which littered the floor, "only it looks like this woman looks like she wants to destroy everything, not stack it."<p>

"I can't see any blood on anything though," Sara said scanning the room with the ALS. "This looks a little out of place," she said holding up a DVD of _The Lion King_.

"One of my favourite films," Nick beamed, snapping photographs of various piles of mess in the room.

"Really, it was alright I suppose," Sara said, also snapping pictures of various items scattered around the room.

"Oh come on, Sara! Don't say you didn't feel teary-eyed at all, not even a teensy-bit?"

"It was sad, yes, but, I know they're just cartoon animals contrived together in a clichéd and overused storyline."

"I knew you had a heart of ice," Nick chuckled.

Catherine walked into the room having taken the duty of processing the kitchen over from Ray, who was upstairs processing with Greg. "Well, I've got blood, and lots of it as well as plenty of kitchen appliances which don't look to be put away properly."

"Catherine, you think The Lion King's sad don't you?" Nick asked her randomly out of the blue.

"Lindsey and I watched it one evening and she spent the next two evenings crying herself to sleep," Catherine recollected, chuckling to herself.

"Okay, okay" Sara admitted, "I have a cold heart, there I said it."

"There's no harm in admitting that Sara," Catherine smiled, "just because Nicky here weeps like a water fountain doesn't make you an Ice Queen."

"Hey guys," Ray's voice could be heard shouting down the stairs, "you might want to take a look at this."

The three of them dashed up the stairs, avoiding pieces of junk as they ascended to the upper floor of the house. Ray pointed them into what appeared to be the master bedroom. Greg was in the bedroom, taking a picture of the ensuite bathroom attached to it, or to be more accurate, the shattered glass door which separated the two rooms from each other.

"Take a sample of the glass, send it to Hodges," Catherine instructed Ray. Looking up at the blood stains which surrounded the walls and the floors, Catherine began delegating tasks. "Everyone else, I want blood samples, carpet samples, and any prints you can find. Let's nail this woman."

* * *

><p>"You know who she is, don't you," Brass spoke to the woman across the table to him who nodded slowly. Brass took his time to study the character seated across from him: her eyes were wide and bloodshot, showing fear and a heightened state of alertness. Her hair was curly and all over the place, it didn't look it had been attended to for a while. He noticed her shift uncomfortably in her seat, occasionally opening her mouth to talk although no words exited from it. If her legs were not restrained to the legs of the table, there's no doubt she would be on her feet.<p>

"Why did you hurt her?" Brass asked, she snapped her head around and looked at him with a fixated glare, flaring her nostrils slightly, "okay, okay, so you may not have meant for her to die, tell me, why did you hurt her."

Once again she opened her mouth to speak and once again, no words left from it. She simply looked around the room uncomfortably and began incessantly tapping her fingers on the table.

"Come on, I know you can make a noise, I think the whole neighbourhood knows," Brass said, beginning to get impatient. "What did she do to you? Were you not getting enough money from her parents? She mess up the house? Say something!"

"I... I... I... I didn't mean to," she quivered, beginning to tap her feet in a similar motion to her fingers.

"Well the problem is you did," Brass spoke softly, "and if you don't give me a good reason soon, you're going to be in a lot of trouble."

"I... I didn't mean to," she repeated, her voice surprisingly high-pitched and innocent.

"Now that's not going to help poor Kelly and her parents to get by I'm afraid..."

"I didn't mean to..."

"Dena," he growled warningly.

"I didn't mean to..." she continued to chant to herself, "I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to..."

Brass could see her lip was beginning to quiver and her pupils were becoming dilated. Her legs continued to shake and she began to wave her arms. Brass stood up, beginning to get concerned as her body began to spasm uncontrollably.

"I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to..."

At this point she'd fallen onto the floor and was flailing around with her arms swinging anywhere and her legs kicking away, causing the table they were restrained to, to wobble. Seeing that she was beginning to salivate and enter convulsions Brass immediately flung the door of the interrogation room open and screamed down the corridor.

"I need some paramedics here fast!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry about the constant delays with this story. I've had some problems with Word recently and have been having to re-write some chapters again which has been most irritating!**

**10303 Lambert Street is not a real address, and I'm not sure if I've even used an appropriate number but oh well. :P**

**The fourth and final part of this story shall be up tomorrow evening sometime. Hope you've enjoyed part three and be sure to review if you liked it! Thanks for waiting so patiently also! :)**


	4. Part 4 of 4

Sara and Greg walked into the DNA lab having collected plenty of blood samples from Dena Welburn's house and handed them in for analysis. They figured that Selma had her back turned to them and hadn't noticed them entering the lab. Sara called out to her but there was no response.

They walked up to her and gently patted her on the shoulder, causing her to leap back with fright. Once she saw who had disturbed her she smiled with relief, "thank God, I thought, it might have been someone out to get me," she took out her headphones and mimed someone shooting a gun.

"Don't worry, the bad guys can't get us in here," Sara remarked, deciding it wasn't the best to tell her about the time when some agents shot up the lab to steal a body.

"Have you got our DNA samples for us?" Greg asked.

"Sure thing," Selma collected up the results in her hands and passed them over to the CSIs. "I only found two donors in all the areas you processed," she continued, "I've got blood belonging to the victim, Kelly Melling as well as blood belonging to the babysitter, Dena Welburn."

"That implies that she never looked after any more children," Sara said.

"Good," Greg remarked, "I don't want to have to do another case like this one ever again. Did you find anything else at all?"

"One thing actually," Selma spoke, rummaging through her notes and reading off from another piece of paper, "I know it's not my area of expertise, but I sent the blood to tox, see if there was anything which might have explained her aggressive behaviour."

"And did you find anything?"

"Henry ran a full tox screen and found rather low quantities of glucose and high amounts of testosterone and adrenalin."

"Testosterone?" Sara exclaimed with surprise, "how the hell did that get there?"

"Well the low quantities of glucose suggest she was hypoglycaemic, maybe her medication is wrong?"

Greg smirked, "Or maybe she's secretly hiding a pair of love apples and..." Selma began to snigger but Sara gave him a cold look, "sorry, that was unprofessional of me." He shuffled away nervously as Selma continued to laugh much to Sara's disapproval.

"Either way," Selma composed herself, "adrenalin and testosterone can induce violent fits of explosive rage; you see it a lot in cases of road rage."

"So, this woman had no control over her emotions?"

"That's a bit generalised," Sara pointed out, "I'm sure she was aware of her condition but why on earth was she allowing herself to look after the child in the first place?" Her pager began beeping; she looked at it and gave a satisfactory smile. "Hodges has the results from the glass; I'll go and get them off him."

"Hold on, wait up," Greg said as Sara made a beeline to Trace but a hand caught his shoulder as Selma pulled him back.

"Wait a second Sanders, I need to talk to you about something," for the first time he'd met her, she seemed serious, "for a former member of the DNA lab you seem to have forgotten every match is automatically saved in the database." Greg's stomach dropped as she opened up the database and he saw his own DNA profile staring back at him on the monitor. "Now I presume you weren't just testing your own DNA for kicks so you better start explaining."

Greg realised he was faced with a dilemma, if he told her about the letters, she could intervene, the whole team could end up investigating and the letters had specifically told him not to call for help. On the other hand if he didn't tell her, Selma would have to report an improper use of the lab equipment which would lead to automatic suspension and possible dismissal. Not to mention, he'd already been in trouble in the past for doing a paternity test on one of his co-workers and although he was never punished for it, it was something they could pick up on.

"Okay, I'll spill the beans but you've got to promise not to tell anyone," Greg lowered his voice to a whisper. Selma looked at him suspiciously for a moment before nodding slowly. "I've been getting letters, in Norwegian. Well, I wouldn't say I was completely fluent in the language but from what I know they sound like threats, warnings. They all seem to end in 'you better watch your back Hojem.'"

"Hojem?" Greg had explained his Norwegian heritage to the new DNA tech in her first couple of weeks but some facts it had appeared had already slipped her mind

"Mom's maiden name. They started off sending them to the lab, and then two weeks ago I started getting them in my own mail."

"Have you got any DNA from the letter, the stamp? The seal?"

"No, they don't put stamps on them, I've been having to pay for my own death threats," he laughed hollowly, "but yesterday they sent me this." He pulled out a piece of paper stained with what looked like blood, smeared into a shape which somewhat resembled an eagle. "I ran the blood in CODIS, at first there was no match but when I ran it through the departmental database, it came up with a profile which had lots of similarities to it... mine."

"What does that mean?" Selma asked cautiously.

"I think it means," Greg gulped nervously, "that Papa Olaf was murdered."

* * *

><p>"I hope you've got some good news for me," Sara beamed at Hodges as she strolled into the Trace lab.<p>

"I always have good news," he replied pompously, "once again, the Trace tech has cracked the case. The refractive index of the glass used in the door is an exact match to the glass found in your victim. The psycho babysitter is your killer."

"Wow, you know you might be one of the most ignorant men I've ever met," she scorned at him.

"And you my dear are perhaps one of most detached women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting," he retorted back with a smirk. Sara gave him a look of warning which warned him that he was walking on thin ice, "I heard you didn't cry in The Lion King, that puts you and me on the same level."

"Get off your high horse Hodges."

"Admit it Sara, the woman's nuts." She responded only with a sinister glare before walking out the lab wordlessly leaving Hodges muttering to himself, "just as I thought."

* * *

><p>For the second time in twenty four hours, Nick found himself walking alongside Brass down the corridors of Desert Palms hospital, despite the intentions being different, Nick was just as anxious to find out what the babysitter had to say just as much as he was feeling about viewing Kelly.<p>

A doctor came out of the ward to meet them both, "Miss Welburn is currently in a stable and relaxed situation, she has been given the appropriate medication however she may still feel a little weak."

"She's not going to, you know, lash out again is she?" Brass asked.

"We believe that her fits of rage were induced by improper medication for her hypoglycaemia. We found high quantities of adrenalin and testosterone in her bloodstream which was the likely cause of her fits."

"Thanks doctor, we shall be conducting our own investigation into Miss Welburn's condition."

The two of them walked into the room where they saw Dena Welburn alert and awake, as if she was expecting them. Nick noticed the handcuffs, chaining her to the bed and heard the ominous beeping of the heart monitor once more. She looked at Captain Brass and muttered just one word to him wearily, "Thanks."

Brass nodded and he and Nick pulled up a chair and sat down by her bedside. "Miss Welburn, we have a few questions to ask regarding your condition and what happened on Friday night."

"I was diagnosed with hypoglycaemia last December and was recommended to a doctor for some medication," Dena began, anticipating Brass' first question, "two weeks later, I changed my doctor."

"Why did you change your doctor?"

"He moved away to Seattle, I went out looking for one myself. I eventually found someone in private practise who had the medication," her eyes began to well up slightly as she continued the next part of the story with some difficulty, "he said... he said that the dose was stronger, which would treat my illness faster but that I might experience some side-effects."

"Did he mention the violent fits being a side-effect?" Brass asked. Dena shook her head.

"He mentioned I might black out from time to time, little did I know that I'd black out every time. I took each pill daily and each time I'd... I'd wake up surrounded by junk, or a broken mirror, my hands covered in blood."

"Why did you take in Kelly, if you knew about your fits?" Nick spoke up for the first time.

"I'm not a greedy person," she explained, beginning to cry, "these pills, they were expensive and I really believed they could work... looking after Kelly, I thought that it might help me speed up my recovery. I genuinely believed they would work and I was gullible to do so."

Nick noted that her reaction seemed genuine and her tale seemed logical. Tears were beginning to stream down her face and Nick felt real sympathy for the woman, who was proving to be an unlikely second victim in this heinous crime.

"I begged the Mellings to take her to another sitter but they were simply too busy to go out looking for another. Kelly and I, we became well... friends. Do you know what she told me last week? She told me that I was like the mother she'd never had. And now... I've killed the daughter I never had!" She began to howl with tears and Nick outstretched his arm and took Dena's handcuffed hand into his, just in the same way he had to Kelly earlier that day.

"Tell us about your relationship with Kelly," Brass said calmly once Dena's tears began to subside.

"We were close and she began to get used to my fits, she'd hide up in one of the rooms whilst I would stay downstairs and have my fit. Then she'd come down and help me tidy up, sometimes she'd... she'd sing to me. Rock-a-bye Baby was her favourite, not only she was like my daughter, but you could say she was my nurse as well."

"Why didn't you check yourself into a hospital?" Brass asked.

Dena began shaking her head, in shame of her actions, "I... I couldn't afford to, not when I was paying this doctor for my medication. I didn't even leave the house at all, even my medication was delivered to the house so I didn't have to go out and get it."

"You didn't leave?" Nick asked curiously, "not at all?"

"There was one time," Dena recollected, "about a month ago. Kelly came home from school looking distraught, she told me there was a dead cat in the road... it had been hit by a car and she wanted to give it a... a proper burial. She brought a blanket with her and carried the cat and together we buried it on the patch of land behind the estate."

"Okay," Brass noted, "can you tell me what was different about Friday night?"

Dena began to quiver again, portraying both shame and regret as she descended into tears again. Brass sighed, he knew that the jury would never convict her, not in her condition and reached up and uncuffed her from the bed. Dena used her free hand to dry away her eyes and began speaking again.

"I took two pills. I don't know why, I was feeling particularly stressed and I knew that Kelly was supposed to be being picked up in the morning. If I'd known how much of a monster I'd have become I'd have... oh, I dunno. I woke up upstairs, there was glass and blood all over the place, Kelly was missing," tears once more began to stream down her face, "I flushed my pills down the toilet and screamed for about an hour and then you guys turned up and I... I lost it..."

Brass nodded his head understandably, he didn't wish to extend this talk any longer than it needed to be and decided to ask one last question, "thank you Miss Welburn for giving us your account of the events, I just need to know your doctor's name."

"His name's Doctor Xavier, his clinic is on Charleston."

"Thank you very much Miss Welburn for your time," he gave her a warming smile.

"Captain," she called out as he and Nick turned to leave, she asked weakly, "am I going to jail?"

Brass looked at Nick and the two exchanged a small nod to each other. It was Nick who spoke up, "as CSIs, it's not our job to take sides, but we believe that you are ultimately not responsible for this tragedy."

What Nick had wanted to say was '_no, no you're going to be fine_' although he knew it might not be a promise he'd be able to uphold and would kick himself for an eternity if he'd given her false hope.

The two of them left the room and began walking towards the car park. Halfway down the corridor, Nick suddenly stopped and thought about what he was doing. He thought about Kelly, her life dwindling away as she lay alone in the hospital bed. Then he thought of Dena, her life in the hands of a jury, lying alone in the hospital bed. There were two victims in this event, two vulnerable victims who just needed someone to support them.

_I'll be here for you._

He also remembered hearing about Kelly's last words. _She didn't mean to_.

Nick knew what he had to do; he turned around and dashed down the corridor.

"Nick," he heard Brass shout down the corridor, "what are you doing?"

"She needs someone here," was all he replied as he dashed out of sight.

Brass stood alone in the hallway, he turned to his left and saw DURMAN, LARRY printed on a piece of paper which stood in front of a door. Brass knew what was lying in there and thought about what Nick had said.

_She needs someone here_. His own thoughts began to come about, _Larry Durman needs someone too._

A moment of compassion led Brass to put his hand on the door handle. Realising what he could be putting himself through he quickly withdrew his hand from the handle and picked out his cell phone calling Catherine's number.

"Hey Catherine, it's Brass, I need you and a couple of unis to investigate a Doctor Xavier. He owns a private practise on Charleston... yes, take Ray along with you as well."

He slammed his cell phone shut, peering into the window of the room opposite him. There was a body in there, motionless, but very much alive. With a small growl he snapped his eyes away from the room and focused himself on returning to work, erasing the charred body of Larry Durman from his mind.

* * *

><p>Catherine and Ray casually exited from the Denali as Officers Metcalf and Mitchell walked up to the front door of the private practice. Officer Metcalf reached for the door handle and attempted to open it. The door didn't budge. "It looks like nobody's home," he called back to Catherine, planting his face onto the window in order to try and get a better look.<p>

"Break it down," Catherine called out and Metcalf swung out his foot, forcing the door open.

The two officers swarmed into the entrance and within a few moments had declared the scene cleared. Catherine and Ray entered what looked to be a reception area of some sort, however it had been apparent that nobody had stepped foot in it for several months. The room was covered with dust and cobwebs. Magazines and newspapers were scattered around on the tables.

"It looks like someone closed up shop in a hurry," Catherine commented.

Ray picked up several newspapers which lay on the tables in the waiting area. "All of these are from April the twentieth of this year. This place looks as if it has been closed three months."

Catherine walked over to the main reception desk and picked up a photo which had been put on it. She unleashed a scowl of disgust as she showed the picture to Ray. It was a picture of what looked to be Doctor Xavier sat on a beach sipping cocktails, surrounded by waitresses of Orient descent. Catherine read a message written on the back of the photo:

_Missing you all so much._

_D. Xavier_

_xx_

"Sick bastard," Ray spat, "he exploits money from people who trust him and he uses it for his dream getaway."

"I think that's as far as we go," Catherine sighed. Ray looked at her horror-struck.

"So we just let this guy get away with this?" he exclaimed. "This guy has been feeding off of Dena Welburn and god knows how many other patients he's extorted for their hard-earned cash..."

"Well if you can identify that one beach from that photo then go ahead and get him," Catherine responded. "I want this guy as much as you do, but it looks to me as if he's left this country let alone Nevada. I'm sorry Ray, our job is done."

Ray stamped the floor with fury, "sick, son of a bitch," he muttered to himself.

Catherine spoke to him with sadness in her voice, "not everyone deserves a happy ending. And not everyone who deserves one gets one."

* * *

><p>Nick heaved a deep sigh as he signed off on his report regarding the death of Kelly Melling. It was a result in which nobody could be satisfied about. The DA had launched an inquest into the mental health of Dena Welburn and they had refused a request to investigate Doctor Xavier, the real perpetrator of the events.<p>

Sara walked into their shared office, "Hey Nick," she spoke to him as two people followed her in, close in tow. "Mr and Mrs Melling are here to speak with you." Nick gestured the couple to take a seat, "I'm gonna take off now."

"Okay Sara, I'll see you tomorrow, have a good afternoon," Nick answered.

"Yeah, errm, you too," she replied hesitantly and left the office, her destination set for home.

"I understand that there are no murder charges in relation to Kelly's death," Mr Melling spoke up first. "Where's Captain Brass, we requested to speak with him?"

"He's off duty," Nick replied as he finished typing up the case report, "and I wanted to have a chat with you myself."

"Is it true though?" Mrs Melling asked eagerly.

"There's going to be an inquest investigating the mental health of Dena Welburn, only then will it be decided whether her case should go to trial." He noticed their faces droop. It was not the answer they were hoping for; Nick thought it was best not to tell them about Doctor Xavier's departure.

"You're Mr Stokes right?" Mr Melling asked, Nick nodded. "I've been told you were with my daughter when she died." Nick nodded again. There was a moment of silence.

"Where were you?" Nick asked out of the blue. The couple looked at him frigidly, "your daughter cried out for her mother and father when she died, where were you?"

"Well we were away on business, like we told Captain..."

"Where were you when Kelly returned home from her first babysitting with Dena?" Nick asked, raising his voice, "where were you when during one of her fits, Dena fractured four of your daughter's ribs? Where were you when Kelly's arm was yanked out of its socket?"

"Are you now accusing us of being bad parents?" Mr Melling retorted furiously.

"No, I'm asking where you were," Nick responded coldly. "It's okay, I know the answer to that. I subpoenaed your travel records. Let's see, East Coast, July fifth to sixteenth. Los Angeles, June twenty-seventh to July second. Florida, June eleventh to twenty-fifth. Texas, June second to June ninth..."

"Okay, stop!" Mrs Melling screeched, on the brink of tears. "Work is always keeping us busy."

"Yeah, and unfortunately you were too pre-occupied with work you had no idea what was happening with your daughter. No idea at all. When was the last time you took your daughter out? When was the last time you read her a story? When was the last time you gave her a bath? This should never have happened and it's something which _you_ should have picked up on!"

"Mr Stokes, you have no right to criticise our parenting..." Mr Melling began.

"With all due respect, that isn't parenting. A parent would notice if their child was being let loose with a woman who c..."

"Enough is enough! Come on dear we're leaving," he seized his wife's hand and dragged her out of the office.

"All she needed was a bath," Nick stood up and called to the furious couple as they left the building, ignoring him completely. He sat down in his chair and felt himself beginning to feel emotional. He placed his hand in his hands, furious thoughts rushing through his head, about people, about ethics. He felt a warm hand place itself on his shoulder.

"Why do you put yourself through this, Nicky?" Catherine asked him gently. "Come on, let's get you home."

She encouraged Nick to collect his stuff and escorted him out to the car park, wiping his tears away with a tissue.

"I was out of line wasn't I," Nick said dejectedly.

"I don't think that was the right thing to say," she began, "but I agree with you."

Nick smiled as the two of them embraced, realising that even when he was at his lowest point that he'd have his supervisor there at his aid. That unlike Kelly and Dena, he was not alone.

* * *

><p>"<em>Nick, Nick, what are these?"<em>

"_What did you do son?"_

_Nick sniffled, looking up at his concerned parents as they washed his hair and tended to his bruises._

"_Did she hurt you? Tell us Nick, did she abuse you at all?"_

_He felt his own tears running down his cheeks into the bathwater as he mustered up the courage to tell his parents the grief he'd been through the previous two evenings._

"_Yes mom. She hurt me everywhere."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That is the end of the story. I'd like to apologise once more how long it's taken me to write up but I hope you all thought it was worth the wait.**

**The next story in the series, **_**Blood Eagle**_** (1x06) will be published on Friday, July 22 and should answer some questions which have been lurking around since the first story. Or will it? ;)**

**Thank you all for reading and feel free to review and let me know what you thought!**


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